


Silence

by Nightscrawl



Series: The Meaning of More [15]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightscrawl/pseuds/Nightscrawl
Summary: The full aftermath of what was wrought at Adamant Fortress.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus/Male Warrior Trevelyan
Series: The Meaning of More [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/974214
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to [Schattenriss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss) for doing the beta.

The reassurance given by their lovemaking at Griffon Wing Keep was short-lived; Dorian’s fear and anger returned full force on their return to Skyhold. Once things had settled into relative normalcy, there was nothing to do but wait for the next inevitable crisis… and think.

Judah was not merely his lover, he was a leader—the Inquisitor—and he made decisions for the care and protection of those under his command, which included, however close they were, Dorian himself. He replayed the moment over and over in his mind: stumbling through the rift to find Inquisition soldiers and the remaining grey wardens battling clusters of demons, but he paid them no heed. Looking toward the rift, he expected to see Judah appear behind him, but he did not. Forever did it seem that he stood there waiting, an endless succession of seconds that, in the end, only amounted to two long minutes.

Despite the constant danger they faced and the looming unknown of the final confrontation with Corypheus, it wasn’t until that very moment that Dorian knew what it was that he had lost, and it hurt _so much_. Never again would he see Judah’s face or be scratched by his stubble as they kissed, nor feel soft fingers in his hair or the comforting pressure of his arms. Forevermore unseen would be the warm smile of affection, and unheard the laughter prompted by something he said. Gone too would be the chance to observe the way his brow came down and his lips tightened into a line with determination, or the rare occasion to discreetly admire the way he moved in combat—decisive, precise, powerful—unflinching even as he took no joy in the killing. Absent would be the sound of his voice, his habits, manner, and little quirks he had gotten so used to and begun to take for granted as part of his life.

The journey into the Fade had been terrifying: taunted by Nightmare, assaulted by tailor-made fears, physical danger around every corner. One could not even look into the sky—or the sweeping vault that was suggestive of a sky—without becoming disoriented by the ever-shifting vista.

Ever present in Dorian’s mind throughout the entire ordeal, beyond even the personal torments that the realm attempted to inflict upon him, was the great weight and responsibility of history. His countrymen a thousand years gone had broken open the Fade in the name of their Old Gods and the resulting punishment had nearly destroyed the entirety of Thedas. Suddenly there _he_ was, another Tevinter mage, the son of a magister even, walking through the Fade. What would be the result of _this_ breach?

Dorian had been mildly surprised, and somewhat relieved, that Judah had chosen not to ask about, nor remark upon, the references to him they had seen and heard, neither Nightmare’s taunt about his father, nor the headstone etched with “Temptation.” But he supposed he should have expected such, for he knew the trial had affected Judah greatly. Being an educated mage had given Dorian the advantage of, if not actual preparedness—who could possibly prepare for _that_?—at least the understanding and expectation of the surrealism that they encountered. As one not so gifted, Judah was more vulnerable. Dorian suspected that the greater connection to the Fade afforded by the Anchor intensified Nightmare’s taunts and mental assaults.

In the days following, Dorian realized that Judah’s regaining of his lost memories, learning the truth behind the explosion at the Conclave, and his conversation with the spirit taking the form of the martyred Divine Justinia V had shaken his faith and left him questioning his role as both Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor. The small, finely wrought book that Dorian had discovered in Judah’s saddlebags he now saw the other man occasionally studying, where he never had seen him do so before. The Canticles of Andraste and Threnodies were what Judah read though over and over again, trying to divine some hidden meaning within, seeking to understand the abandonment by the Maker, and wondering how he himself, a single mortal man, could possibly fit into His grand plan.

And so Dorian was afraid. He feared to lose Judah, now knowing what the loss would mean. He feared the circumstance of the trip into the Fade and the as yet unknown consequences that would result from it. He feared _for_ Judah, what it meant for him, how he was affected and changed by it. He feared for himself, knowing the taunt by Nightmare was true and fearing to lose himself to temptation. He found he could barely deal with it all.

And so Dorian was angry. He was angry at Corypheus, and the foolish grey wardens and venatori as his minions. He was angry at Judah for enabling him to feel the fear and the loss—however brief it was—and the pain of it, and for putting him in a position to do so. He was angry at himself and at the entire situation. And even knowing the anger was irrational, he felt it nonetheless.

And so Dorian had lashed out at Judah, the one person who was not deserving of it. Anger had made him blurt out his fear, and along with it an admission of his feelings. He saw Judah’s look of pleased acceptance, even as he seemed confused by its delivery. The logical part of his mind could look at everything that Judah had ever said and done, know that he meant all of it, and _expect_ the acceptance that he had seen. But love and fear and pain were not logical, and a deeper part of him had been _relieved_ to see it.

* * * * *

Skin against skin, the full lengths of their bodies were pressed together as Dorian lay behind Judah, inside him, rocking his hips against him in a gentle waver that brought them both pleasure. But Dorian wanted more than that. He wanted to forget the events of the Fade, the loss and its resultant pain, the fear and its succeeding anger. He wanted to make Judah forget the Fade as well, his own fear and newly formed self-doubt, to come so hard that everything would be wiped out of his mind in a burst of ecstasy.

Dorian’s arm was across Judah’s chest, holding him close; his face was against the back of Judah’s neck, eyes closed, absorbed with the experience. As their pleasure built from the friction and the pressure, a corner of Dorian’s mind kept aware of Judah’s reaction, waiting for him to reach a certain point, knowing the sound his lover would make when he did so.

Judah’s eyes were closed as well as he allowed himself to be lost in Dorian’s embrace. Breathy sighs turned into shuddering exhalations as he slowly moved against him. After what seemed an eternity of continual pleasure, he released a deep moan as he felt a warm wave flow through him.

There it was. Dorian increased his pace briefly and then began to thrust, hard, softly grunting with the effort.

Judah moaned with each drive against him. He moved his hand to the one on his chest, closed his fingers around Dorian’s palm, crushing the hand to himself as he got closer.

Dorian’s entire body tightened around Judah as he felt a wave of heat flow through himself. Breathing hot and ragged against Judah’s neck, he absently felt the tickle of sweat on his temple, and the increasing pressure on his hand as his lover gripped it.

If Dorian’s goal was to make Judah insensible of all but base bodily sensation, then he succeeded, for Judah knew naught else. The thrusting was hard, insistent, almost painful, but the pleasure obliterated everything. His moaning was so loud that it eclipsed any noise made by Dorian, even though the other man was mere inches away from his ear. Just when he thought it was all too much, that he could no longer stand the intensity, that he would be forever in a limbo on the verge of release, he climaxed for several seconds of pure ecstasy.

Pain intruded itself on Dorian’s awareness. When Judah came, he crushed his hand so hard that he thought it would break. But he soon lost all feeling and thought as one last thrust brought him to orgasm as Judah was still in the throes of his own. He made a deep groan as he felt an emotional release along with the physical one.

The two men relaxed against each other as they slowly came down. Dorian hugged Judah to him, kissed his shoulder, stroked a thumb against his chest. Judah made a sigh of contentment, released his clutch of Dorian’s hand, rubbed the thigh still held against him.

After a few silent minutes of lying thus, Dorian separated, moving off the bed toward the washstand for a cleanup. Judah followed, and side-by-side they stood as they wiped themselves down. They made quick work of it. When finished, the pair looked at each other. In such moments, there were usually smiles, sometimes a kiss, but always a quiet, mutual acknowledgement of pleasure given and received, of shared affection. Instead, Judah saw that Dorian’s mien was serious, his eyebrows slightly turned up in a hint of apprehension. He realized that he was not surprised to see such an expression on his lover’s face.

Knowing the events of the Fade had disturbed Dorian, as they had disturbed himself, Judah had made the decision not to ask him about the things there that related to him, thinking that he would get no answer. But he realized this was a mistake; he _should_ have asked and _might_ have gotten an answer; but if not, there still was value in asking the question.

Dorian’s outburst earlier in the day had left Judah with a multitude of feelings: concern and confusion at the reaction interlaced with happiness for himself. Dorian had all but told him how he felt, and while he had suspected, it was wonderful to have the suspicion confirmed. But now Judah also felt guilty because he’d been so preoccupied with his own imbalance that he had overlooked the most important person in his life, who had gone through the ordeal _with_ him, and doubtless had his own struggles with it.

As powerful as this sexual experience had been, Judah felt Dorian’s emotional torment in it, and could now see it in his face. Taking Dorian’s hand, he said, “Come on,” and pulled him along back toward the bed. After lying down once more, he gave a tug to indicate what he wanted. Dorian complied and settled over him, kissing the center of Judah’s chest before raising his head to look at him expectantly.

Loosened by sweat, a few strands of Dorian’s perfectly coiffed hair had fallen forward and Judah reached to brush them away, allowing his fingers to linger in the gesture of affection that he enjoyed so much. “My sweet, precious man. I know there’s a lot going on up here,” he said, shifting his other hand to rest against Dorian’s heart, “and in here, and I hope that someday you’ll share it with me.”

Dorian’s face shifted to a look of distress when Judah said this and he turned away. When he looked back, Judah saw the oft-worn playful smile, but it did not reach his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak. Two fingers against his lips prevented the words from coming forth.

“No. No deflection. No obfuscation,” Judah began, and saw and felt the lips press into a line beneath his fingers, the irritation creeping in, as Dorian thought that he was trying to prod him into articulating his feelings. He shifted the fingers to caress the side of his face and added, “I don’t need your _words_ , Dorian.”

Judah watched Dorian’s façade melt away; the smile faded and his eyes widened ever so slightly in a way that perhaps only he would have noticed. “Everything that you give me is enough, but I need you to hear some of mine. All that I am, body and soul, is yours to keep, and always will be.”

Dorian made a soft, indeterminate sound of emotion and leaned forward to press his mouth firmly against Judah’s. Their hands found each other and he laced their fingers together, squeezing tightly and breathing deeply into the kiss. Several seconds passed before he began to relax, breaking the kiss but continuing to nuzzle Judah’s face. Dorian kissed him again, once, twice, then their lips parted and they connected, gentle, sensuous, the kind he knew Judah enjoyed and appreciated for its intimacy. Seconds passed into minutes and he finally separated. He looked into Judah’s face briefly, and then kissed him once a final time before moving to lie against his shoulder.

Judah felt the hot breath of a heavy sigh against his neck and then Dorian was still. _Oh, my love…_ he thought as he wrapped both arms around Dorian, holding him close and safe and warm. After a few moments, he slipped his fingers into Dorian’s hair and began to stroke it softly.

Dorian’s breathing became a constant, steady rhythm. Judah’s embrace loosened and his fingers grew still as both men drifted away toward sleep.

End.


End file.
